Locked Away // phanfiction

Part 1

A strong hand pushes Phil down the hall. He can hear yelling and laughing in the distance. There was something about the air in here. It's thick and something vaguely smells. As Phil continues walking he stares down at himself. He had to trade his skinny jeans for baggy joggers and a white t-shirt. He hates wearing non-brand clothes.

At the end of the hallway there's a glass doorway where they have to wait for a few seconds. A loud bell goes off and the doors open. The strong hand gives Phil another push into the next hall. Now it becomes clear where all the noise is coming from. Phil enters a big room, filled with guys his age. Some are sitting around tables playing card games, others are watching a tv that's locked in a metal cage. The wall across the room has a window and through it he can see guys playing soccer.

"Dinner is at 6. Just follow the crowd. After dinner you will be assigned your cell." The guard says just before turning around back through the glass doors. Leaving Phil standing alone.

"Great," Phil mumbles, staring around the room. He scans everyone in his surrounding. Most of the guys have a mean look when they see Phil. Trying to look scary probably, but failing miserably. They just look pathetic. But then again, what else would you expect in a youth detention center.

Phil considers his options. The card tables are filled with nerds, who look like they're on meth. The tough guys would give him a hard time and even though Phil has the confidence he can take them on, he can't be bothered. Most of the guys in front of the tv seem bored, also boring. 

Then they're a few loners. Tables or couches with just one or two people on there. Fear, anger, sadness, all reasons why teens would isolate themselves. Again, boring. 

Phil's looking for people to entertain him in the 6 weeks he has to spend here. Interesting people, not too dangerous, not too boring, not too loud or too funny. Not richer than him, also not too poor. Like... a toy.

Phil's train of thought is interrupted by a loud ring. Everyone in the room stands up in unison, all walking to the grand doors on the left. 

Follow the crowd Phil. This migration from one room to the other could go as well as to be expected in this situation. Guys push each other, yell from across the room, throw cards and trash on the floor. A few yards before him someone trips and another is yelling at a guard. Two more guards get involved and one guy, he looks only thirteen, is dragged away while screaming and crying. What a lovely welcome.

Through the doors is a huge dining hall. Enough to hold like 200 people. These 200 people are all walking towards a buffet like bar, where everybody gets a plate full of what looks like dog vomit.

Phil looks down at his tray with disgust as he sits down at a table in the corner. No way in hell I'm eating this kind of crap for six weeks. Phil pushes his tray away, already decided to just give up on meals. In the email he got with the specifics they talked about a small convenient store where they also sold food. He'll just have to ask his parents to fix credit for him and no more dog vomit.

Again he lets his eyes wander around the room. Nobody actually stands out. Everybody is dressed the same, just like Phil himself. Either the groups are too big to join, or the kids look too boring. Nothing actually peaks Phil's interest.

But right as he wants to stand up to throw his dog vomit into the trash, a figure comes through the doors. Instead of a white t-shirt he is wearing a black hoodie, covering his face with the hood. Both hands in his pockets he drags his feet across the floor, not bothering to lift them up high enough.

Phil squints his eyes, following the boy across the room. When he walks through groups of people eating or talking everybody looks at him but nobody says anything. Even the so called tough guys take a step aside, not giving the boy anything but dirty looks.

The boy himself doesn't even look up, he doesn't even seem to care about his surroundings. In a casual and slow matter he grabs a tray and patiently waits his turn.

"Hi!"

Phil looks up startled to a short boy standing next to him, broad smile and small glasses.

"My name is Alan." He puts his tray down next to Phil. "I haven't seen you before here, and I'd like to think myself quite an observant guy so I'd have to guess you are new here?" Without a second thought Alan sits down. 

Slightly confused Phil frowns, "Uh... Yes... I am..."

The boy looks at Phil full of expectation. "And your name is...?"

Phil lifts one eyebrow and hesitates for a second. "Phil." He says quickly before turning his head, searching the room for the mystery boy.

"Well Phil, it's nice to meet you. I make it a sport to meet all the new people and kind of guide them you know. I mean it's hard for everybody the first nights here and it can really help to know a few people..."

Alan continues to talk about whatever but Phil stopped listening. Shit. Where did he go?  Black hoodie boy seems to have disappeared. Phil sits up straight to try to get a better view of the room. He has to be here somewhere.

"So if you like have any questions, or just want a friend to hang out with." Alan pokes Phil in the side jokingly. 

Phil looks back at Alan disturbed and annoyed, removing the smile of off Alan's face. "Yes actually." Phil tilts his head slightly. "I just saw a boy in a black hoodie, nobody else has those. Why?"

Alan seems slightly confused by the question. He's quiet for a few second before his smile comes back. "Ooohh, you mean Dan. Yeah no, everybody can wear those hoodies if you want to, but since it's like 25 degrees in here nobody actually wants them."

"Dan? Who is he?" Phil's eyes are piercing through Alan's glasses. 

"Uh..." Alan has to think for a second again. "Well, I don't really know actually, but you'll probably meet him tonight. Most of the new boys get assigned to share a cell with him, and then they all ask to switch cells within days. It's pretty creepy if you ask..."

"Why?" Phil cuts him off. "Why do they want to switch?"

"Oh." Alan pushes his glasses further up his nose. "He has like these nightmares or something. And he'll scream really loud and if you wake him he'll probably hit you. The entire sleeping quarters has to deal with it apparently. I'm glad that I sleep-"

"Yeah thanks." Phil cuts him off again. Now this is interesting. A mystery boy to unravel.